He Will Win It
by EmeraldRomance
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring the continuing love story of Emma and Hook. Will be updated as my muse demands. Rating may increase as new prompts are added.
1. Chapter 1

_**My speculation on what might have happened behind the 'big black screen' which blocked the filming of the CS finale scene at Granny's. Rated K+ (lots of feels!) Warning: Potential speculative spoiler...**_

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**Feeling at Peace**

The crowd at Granny's nearly swelled out the door both in size and noise, revelry and relief thick in the air. Not only had they defeated the Wicked Witch, they were also celebrating. Two of their own – the most unlikely reformed villains – had found their happy endings at last. Emma felt the frown marring her face as she sat in the midst of the celebration. Where an overwhelming peace should be settling in her heart, there was only more doubt and confusion. Her eyes strayed to the leather-clad pirate seated at the bar and the ache in her chest grew.

He'd stood by her side through the end, even willingly sacrificing his own life to save her baby sister. The hours waiting at the hospital while Hook lingered between life and death had honestly been some of the worst moments of her life; on par with the time she'd nearly lost Henry. And like Henry, it had taken a powerful magic to bring him back: True Love's Kiss. She wasn't surprised that it worked on Hook; subconsciously she knew she'd fallen in love with him even before he came to save her in New York. But she'd never been quick to trust in her own feelings. And with the Walsh fiasco still flying over their heads, – literally – keeping her heart guarded seemed the most prudent choice.

What should have been an amazing moment of perfect clarity and recognition of their own happy ending had just been another massive disappointment. Oh, it wasn't his fault; with a wink in his eye and a smirk on his lips he'd made it perfectly clear he was ready for whatever future she wanted. But she'd run, just as always. And yet there he sat, by her side as always.

"You should talk to him," Henry said resolutely, working his way through an ice cream sundae. At her confused look, he gestured with the spoon toward the counter. "Hook. You should tell him how you feel."

"He knows," Emma spoke softly, saying with her eyes that Henry of all people knew the implications of a true love's kiss.

Henry grinned. "Yeah, but he doesn't really know, does he?"

She paused, considering the wisdom of her eleven-year-old son. Had she ever really had that discussion with Hook? She'd taken his feelings at face value for ages; he wore his love for her on his sleeve, especially since New York. He knew why she kept her distance. Right?

A particularly loud cheer resounded from Leroy and his band of dwarves, drawing Emma's focus to the counter once more. Hook downed the last of his beer before setting the mug on the counter and standing. He held her gaze for a long moment, saying so much with the shade of hurt veiling his normally brilliant blue eyes. Then, he turned toward the door, pushing out into the night.

Emma's heart clenched. This couldn't be the end. Not tonight, not ever. "Excuse me," she muttered to Henry before rushing to follow Hook's departure. The early spring evening still held the traces of winter, shocking her with its icy fingers. She clutched her red leather jacket tightly around her as she called out to him, ignoring the slight desperation in her tone. "Hook! Where are you going?"

He turned slowly on his heel and swept his eyes over her entire body, taking in the protective way she held her armor of choice around her chest. "It's getting late…I'm tired," he replied, voice low and a tad weary.

_He's lying_, Emma thought to herself. Carefully, she took a step forward, closing the distance between them incrementally. "You left without saying goodbye," she whispered. The words seemed simple enough, yet her heart was pounding as frantically as a bird's wings against her rib cage.

"I didn't think you'd notice, love." He met her gaze in silent challenge. The hurt was laced with accusation. She'd done that; she'd placed that doubt and rejection in his mind.

She moved toward him once more, nearly encroaching on his personal space in the same manner he was known for. Her mind strained with what to say. How did she explain to him the fears rioting in her soul while also selfishly asking him not to let her go? She swallowed thickly. "I'm afraid."

He blinked slowly, head tilting ever-so-slightly. "Of what exactly?" When she didn't respond, he closed the space between them, so close that she could smell the faintness of ale on his breath when he spoke. "The Wicked Witch is destroyed by your hand. Your family is safe. What more is there to fear?" His sapphire eyes leveled on her, understanding shifting in their depths. He knew. He knew what caused her to run from him…from _them_ time and time again.

"Love." Emma expected the admission to hang heavy in the air, dragging her down and exposing all her insecurities, but it didn't. Instead, the word seemed to float from her soul leaving a delicate hope in its wake. Her fingers closed around Hook's right hand and she brought it to rest over her heart. "You once told me it would take no trickery to win my heart. And you were right." She felt safe in confessing this; true love's kiss was not false advertising. "But Hook, my heart's never been particularly good at protecting me."

His expression softened. Compassion, hope...love, welled in his eyes. "That's my job, now," he observed. "If you'll let me?"

Emma looked into those startling eyes, making herself see for the first time all he was offering. He loved her – she knew that – but more, he wanted her. He was a lost boy and she was a lost girl and somehow, they'd found home in each other. He was always at her side; even when she pushed him away he was never more than a few steps behind her. He'd proven his devotion a thousand times but never lost his patience. _She was worth it to him_, she realized. He wouldn't leave her, perhaps _couldn't_ leave her. Just as she knew she would never stop loving him and wanting him close, even when she demanded distance. And suddenly all the doubt and fear vanished as easily as their warm breath in the cold night. Her happy ending was staring her in the face – had been for sometime – if only she would reach out and claim him.

The words tripped over her tongue before she even thought about stopping them. "Marry me."

Hook shifted his face back a few inches, physically stunned by her words. She didn't let him answer. "I…I love you…Killian. I've known it for awhile. And it scared me. This is so much more than I've ever had, and I was terrified to lose it," she finally confessed.

He regained those few inches, moving his hand to stroke over her cheek before tangling in her long blonde locks. "And now?" He whispered, his breath warm and soft against her skin.

"Now I never want you to say goodbye to me again." Emma dropped to her knees, joining in his smile as she saw the joy lighting his eyes. "I never want to go a day without you. I want you, all of you, for the rest of my life. If you'll have me?"

Hook tugged on her hand, bringing her to stand fully against him and wrapped his arms around her slim frame. "Oh love, one lifetime will never be enough." The scruff of his beard rubbed against her cheek as he turned to kiss her, but she held her face back.

"So, is that a yes?" Emma smiled shyly.

"Bloody hell, Swan, I'm willing to have it tattooed!" He moved in closer again, stopping just before his lips made contact to whisper, "Yes, love. I will gladly make my home with you…forever." His mouth claimed hers in a kiss so deep she felt it all the way through her soul. Laughing, he circled his arms at her waist and lifted her, spinning them around in a physical outpouring of their own celebration. Emma beamed down at him, finally feeling at peace.

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**Thanks for reading! Review?**


	2. Unleashed

**_Emma is forced to watch as the Wicked Witch of the West attempts to steal Hook's heart. Will she find the means to save him and perhaps save herself at the same time? My head canon for the upcoming Jolly Roger episode. Rated K_**

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**Unleashed**

Emma blinked furiously, trying to wake herself up and erase the nightmarish images from her eyes, but this was no dream. Zelena, the Wicked Witch of the West, stood over Hook's prone figure with her claw-like nails mere inches from his chest. Her upper lip curled over her teeth in anger, though her whispered words were nearly inaudible given Emma's position some five yards from the pair. But Emma didn't need to know what the witch was saying to understand what was about to happen. A rush of acidic anxiety rioted in her veins, flowing faster than it should courtesy of the frantic beating of her heart. _No_, her thoughts cried. _No_!

Hook's eyes flickered between the red-haired harpy looming over him and Storybrooke's savior. _Emma_. His Swan, if only she'd allow it. He saw her struggle to lift her feet from the binding curse cast only moments before, but having experienced it himself merely a day ago, he knew it was useless. Not without some sort of magic. A burst of misplaced laughter loosened from his throat at the irony. His beautiful, magical, stubborn Swan! If only she'd accept who she really was, she'd be free of that false prison in seconds! But she wouldn't be _her_ if she gave in so easily. It was one of the things he loved most about her: the challenge. That and her enviable obstinacy.

"What could possibly be so funny, _pirate_?" Zelena seethed.

Wearily, Hook turned his attention back to his captor, noting the furious envy teeming in her unearthly blue eyes. He'd been around enough women to recognize that expression. Jealousy. She may not be green in this realm, but it was just as apparent in her expressions, words, and actions. "I really don't think you'd comprehend my brand of humor, lass," he managed to say through strained vocal chords. He'd fought valiantly with Storybrooke's latest villain, but a costly error had left him exposed and she'd wasted no time in using magic to strangle him into his current position.

Zelena's expression darkened before her mouth twisted in a self-satisfied smile. "Well, far be it for me to allow a dying man his last moments of merriment. It's too bad your precious savior can do nothing to intervene." She lifted her hand to trace Hook's cheek with one of her finely-shaped nails. "Such a handsome face, wasted on a lowly pirate. Laugh while you can; I assure you, I'll be laughing last." Her tone lowered into a threatening growl as her hand returned to his chest.

_That's where you're wrong_, Hook thought, his gaze turning once more toward Emma. Even if he were to perish, he'd yet to see her fail in anything. She would defeat this loathsome witch. He was only sorry she had to witness his fall. She'd seen too much loss for one so young. When he'd confronted Zelena, he'd been willing to lay down his life to protect Emma and her son – the family he'd never even dared to hope for – but he hadn't counted on the witch being so cruel as to force Emma to watch. "I'm so sorry, love," he uttered just as Zelena's fingers trekked forward.

"No!" Emma cried again. This time the powerful word resounded throughout the entire docks, not just her mind. A thousand memories assaulted her all at once: endless glances, sinful smirks, playful teasing, but also sincere affection. And trust. Above all, there was finally a person in her life she'd learned to trust. How could he be taken from her now?

She struggled again to free her legs from whatever spell Zelena had activated, but the magic would not budge. A bitter taste welled in her mouth as she fought to calm her panicky breaths. This man, this pirate turned hero, had risked his life for her time and time again and it was finally going to cost him if she didn't do something to stop it.

"Zelena!" She yelled. "Zelena stop!"

The Wicked Witch turned a smug grin back to Emma. "Now why would I do that?" She laughed. "Be a good girl and enjoy the show in silence, will you?"

Hook's body arched off the ground as Zelena's fingers closed around his tremulous heart, a cry laced with pain pierced the stillness of the marina. His face contorted in a grimace that sent a stab through Emma's own heart. She tugged violently against her magical bonds before lifting her arms in front of her body in agonized frustration. A small spark of white flame danced in her fingertips. She gasped, holding the kindled magic in front of her wide green eyes.

"Pathetic," Zelena scoffed loudly, having glanced Emma's display. "The pair of you make me sick. Did you really think you could beat me with what…_love_? Love is weak. Just like the heart. Hate is strong."

"_You need to channel your magic from a place of strength," _Regina's teachings flitted through Emma's thoughts. They'd practiced magic earlier, but it wasn't until that moment that Emma understood what the Evil Queen had meant. A place of strength. For Regina and Zelena, strength came from their darker feelings. But Emma had learned to barricade herself from drowning in pain some time ago.

As she gazed upon Hook's face, she forced those self-imposed walls to crumble – if only for a moment – to allow her feelings to rush forward. Suddenly, she saw the true meaning behind each of those stored moments. She saw the vulnerability in his eyes in the echo cave, the passion behind his lips the one time she'd allowed herself to kiss him, the heartbreak in Central Park when she'd cuffed him to the bench and the sheer determination of his complete devotion when he'd left her in the diner some hours ago. She'd taken it all in stride, content to file it away in that part of her soul where she kept the feelings that could hurt her. But no longer.

"You're wrong," she asserted quietly. Too quiet for Zelena to hear, although she tilted her head just the same, perhaps in deference to the sudden confidence on Emma's face or the defiance in her posture. "Love is strength," Emma spoke louder just before tapping into her hidden power and sending a blast of white magic straight at Zelena's chest.

The Wicked Witch of the West was known for her ability to fly, but this was the first time she'd done it without a broomstick. As Emma's magic slammed into her very surprised frame, she was forced backwards into the outer wall of the nearby cannery. Emma rushed to Hook's side, cradling his head in her lap as she assessed him. "Hook..._Killian_. Are you alright?" She asked, worry thick on her voice.

Hook's startling eyes blinked open. As he took in Emma's anxious face, he smiled softly – that shy smile reserved solely for her. "I knew you could do it, love." He lifted his hand to lace his fingers with hers. "You only had to believe in yourself."

"No," she gently corrected. "I had to believe in you." A hot tear trailed down her cheek and she wiped it away hastily with her free hand. "You can't keep doing this…I'm not supposed to have to worry about you," she chastised lightly.

His eyes filled with tenderness. "As you wish, love."

"Isn't this just so dreadfully touching," Zelena mocked. She sauntered closer to Emma and Hook, brandishing Rumpelstiltskin's dagger next to her head. "Seems a pity to invite anyone else to our little soiree, but I do believe I'm done playing nice."

Emma helped Hook to sit up before wrapping her arm around him so her palm rested against his chest directly over his heart. Drawing on her newly discovered well of magic, she let the power flow from her hand to his body, creating an impenetrable shield over his heart. Leveling a stare at the witch she challenged, "By all means; the more to watch your destruction the better." Hook rose to his feet and held his hand to Emma. Meeting his steady gaze – so filled with love for her she wondered how she'd denied it so long – she grasped his strong fingers and stood by his side.

Zelena paced back and forth, her wrath brimming like some great tantrum about to erupt. Swirling green mist like tiny tornadoes formed in her hands. "You won't be able to play that trick again, _savior_."

"Perhaps not, but let's see what kind of duet the two of us can play together," Regina's haughty tone preceded her appearance by only a second. As she took in Emma and Hook facing down her half-sister, her own brand of magical storm appeared in her black leather-clad hand. She inclined her head at Emma, saying so much with a simple gesture.

Emma stood in front of Hook and focused on channeling her power again. Unlike Zelena's mist, or Regina's flame, Emma's magic flared like the brightest of lights chasing away the darkness of the night sky. She felt the power vibrating in her palm, tantalizing her senses with jolts of emotion she'd bottled for so long she felt she could become drunk on them. Holding her gaze on the Wicked Witch, she felt Hook step closer to her back, his presence strengthening the magic flowing through her.

Zelena's cruel features turned momentarily fearful before she masked it with evil conceit once more. "Perhaps another time, Sis." With a twirl of her wrist, the green vapor consumed her, leaving an empty space behind.

A sudden silence filled the docks as the unlikely trio struggled to process what had happened. Regina was the first to speak, saying "I see you've found the source of your magic. I told you it was only a matter of time before you were able to leash your emotions enough to control them."

Looking back to Hook, Emma smiled unconsciously. His sword was in his hand, ready to defend her as always. "Actually," she began, "I had to unleash them." He returned her grin, his own shifting into his trademark smirk and for once she didn't care. Did she love him? Maybe. She really wasn't sure what it was she was feeling. But she was finally ready to find out.

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**Review?** _(After all, we might not survive the next episode! I. Can't. Wait!)_


	3. Broken

_**A head canon concerning potential events of A Curious Thing…What happens when Emma discovers Henry has been taken on Killian's watch, and he finally reveals what has been plaguing him for days? **_

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**Broken**

His face was broken. Not in the literal sense, but in the way which advertised loud and clear that the possessor's soul had fractured beyond repair. Emma had watched, helplessly, for days as Killian's despair mounted by degrees. She'd tried to reconcile his stripping of character as a reaction to the stress which assailed them all; the worry around his eyes, the tightening of his jaw, the withdrawing of his flirtations and ill-timed jokes. Even her increasing magic – a welcome sign that their victory was imminent – had done little to pull him back to the pirate she'd known. The pirate she'd come to realize she missed.

But this was far worse. Anxiety crept along her spine like icy fingertips; a powerful feat given the wintery conditions surrounding them. This was not concern facing her…this was defeat. Killian's normally bright eyes were shrouded and dull. The lines of stress had been replaced by a hollowness so deep it was as if looking upon an empty shell. Were it not for the lone tear tracking through the stubble of his cheek, she would've wondered if he was still alive at all.

Emma's breath caught in her throat before releasing in a series of shallow pants. Her pulse tripped through her veins and thundered in her ears. She wanted to step back, to run from whatever news he so clearly did not want to share, but her legs could barely stand upright let alone flee. "What is it?" She asked, her voice hardly a whisper.

Those unfamiliar, broken eyes blinked rapidly before settling just beyond her shoulder, unable to focus on her face. "It's Henry. She took him," he admitted in a voice belonging to another man.

Emma's legs swayed. Her palm pressed tightly to her chest, willing her heart to slow down, or trying to hold herself together. Either would've been helpful. She'd tried so hard to keep her son out of harm's way. Yet time and time again, the danger had snatched him from underneath her carefully construed watch. Her wide green eyes scanned the clearing, desperately seeking any sign that this was merely a bad dream. But they were alone.

Killian's hand reached toward her then fell against his side with his fist clenched. That strange detached expression shattered before her very eyes as a manifestation of absolute misery radiated from him. He seemingly refused to meet her eyes; would not take a step closer to her or offer her any relief whatsoever.

Her rampant fear boiled into rage. Rage at herself. Rage at Zelena. Rage at him for shutting her out just when she had decided to let him in. She was not weak. _They_ were not weak. How dare he look so broken? Using that anger to fuel her weakened limbs, Emma stepped into his space, her boots crunching in the thick snowfall. "Enough," She choked out. "What is it you're not telling me?"

Once again he tried to avoid her gaze, but her glove-clad hand anchored to his jaw and forced him to focus on her. His eyes widened and he flinched at her touch. Emma considered that she'd rarely initiated any sort of physical contact with him, but his reaction stung just the same. She dropped her hand as some of her fierce determination deflated, allowing uncertainty to creep in once more.

"Please, Killian. I…I don't blame you," she swallowed thickly. "But whatever you're hiding, I need to know. For Henry," she quickly added. _For me_, she kept to herself.

Slowly, a bit of the man she knew returned to his eyes, though that edge of despair remained a stubborn companion. He exhaled sharply before admitting in a rush, "She cursed me. I'm so sorry, love. This is all my fault. She warned me, she told me…I…I thought if I stayed vigilant, I'd somehow be able to keep you all safe."

Emma listened to each word, but confusion swirled in her thoughts. "What did she tell you? What curse?" She demanded.

His breath caught and he turned away. Fingers flexing again, Emma realized he was imagining gripping his cutlass. When he spoke, it was through clenched teeth. His voice was equal parts disgust and anguish. "She cursed my kiss. She tricked me into admitting my love for you then used my confession as a poison which will strip you of your magic." Shifting his stance, he looked upon her, eyes nearly hopeless yet still pleading for her to somehow understand. "She demanded that I either invoke this curse against you, or she'd take the lives of all those you love."

Emma's arms wrapped around her middle, stunned. He loved her? Loved her enough that the Wicked Witch could use it to curse him? Suddenly, his increasing distance made sense. How could she fault him for such an impossible choice? She'd come to understand him well enough to know how deeply his emotions ran. While he was keen to don his mask and play the role of a virtue-less pirate, he'd shown her repeatedly how much more there was to Killian Jones.

She blinked back the rising tide threatening her eyes and focused back on his words. "We were ambushed. I swear to you I would have laid down my life to protect your boy, but he was absconded by one of those bloody monkeys!" His chest heaved as his eyes flashed like a tempest, his feelings seemingly crashing back into his being and reanimating that spark which defined him.

Seeing his fingers curling in the empty air once more, Emma reached out and linked them with her own. Blue and green merged in a shared look of hopeful promise. "This is not your fault," she said quietly but assuredly. She knew he would defend Henry with every breath in his body; it's why she trusted him to look after her son to begin with. That the witch had taken him on Killian's watch was an intentional blow…a strong message. But it wasn't meant for him. Squeezing his hand, Emma continued, "She used you just like she uses everyone. But we're going to stop her."

A hint of that steely resolve she so admired in him flared across his face. "What's the plan?" He asked.

Emma's heart warmed, emboldened by his easy acquiescence. She was the savior, but since Neverland, he had always been there at her side. She'd never told him, but his simply stated _"I've yet to see you fail,"_ were words she replayed often in her mind whenever she needed a measure of encouragement. Even then, he'd been the one whose belief strengthened her rather than pressured her.

"I'm going to give her what she wants," Emma stated calmly. His dark eyebrow arched – either in confusion or disbelief – but he didn't question her. He rarely questioned her. "If it's my magic she's after, then that's what she's going to get."

Emma wasn't sure what directed her feet to the clock tower rather than the farmhouse, – a mother's intuition? An innate draw toward danger? – but as she and Killian climbed the stairs, Zelena's amused voice floated down to greet them.

"If it isn't the savior come to…well, _save_ the day!"

As they turned the final curve of the staircase, Emma observed Zelena holding Henry in front of her body, her arm a bar across his shoulders and a far-too delighted grin stretching her painted lips. Holding back a gasp, Emma struggled to remain calm even as every cell in her body coiled in preparation for attack.

"Mom!" Henry exclaimed. His voice squeaked unnaturally as Zelena's arm tightened. Those hazel eyes that so often shone with excitement and intrigue were filled with fear and an odd sense of relief. The rage swelled within Emma once more. No matter what it cost, Zelena would pay for causing even a moment of uncertainty to cross her son's thoughts.

"Let him go," Emma commanded. Her spine straightened as she felt Killian come up behind her.

Zelena's mouth curved, her manic blue eyes flickering between Emma and Killian. "No," she said smugly. "I had a deal with your darling pirate that he failed to follow through on. If you want your son back, you know what needs to be done."

"I made no deal with you," Killian growled. Tension pulsated from his frame in a thick wave.

Emma's eyes narrowed and she felt the first licks of magic stirring within her, crackling across her psyche like tiny bolts of electricity. "Your fight is with me. Let them go," she repeated.

"Emma," Killian started, his voice regaining traces of apprehension.

Emma glanced at him from the side of her eye. His left arm was raised – hook at the ready – while his body guarded hers. This man, so broken by his past and literally a lost soul for centuries, would die for her. For Henry. He asked for nothing in return, yet was willing to give everything just to be with them. Emma had pushed him away time and time again, but he stubbornly refused to heed any attempt. He'd gained her trust almost without her notice. One day it was just there. What else had he gained when she wasn't paying attention?

Rumpelstiltskin's dagger materialized in Zelena's hand. Eyes pinpointed on Emma's, she pressed it against Henry's throat. Emma jerked forward and Zelena grinned. "Perhaps you're in the mood to make a deal with me after all."

The magic crested underneath Emma's skin, focusing into a ball of blazing white light cradled in her palm. Seeing it, Zelena pressed the dagger more firmly against Henry's skin. "Oh I don't think that's a wise choice, _savior_," she spat. Her lips curled over her teeth. "I've not the steadiest hands…would be a pity if they were to slip."

The reflex to charge the witch was almost more than Emma could bear. Panic roiled in tandem with her magic – a potentially lethal cocktail – but with Henry's body shielding Zelena's, it was too much of a risk. "What do you want?" Emma seethed.

Zelena laughed – a bitter, caustic sound. "I believe you already know." Her glance settled on Killian. "Your pirate pines for you so…won't you give him a kiss?"

Killian moved forward toward Zelena, but Emma's arm stopped him. Meeting each other's gaze, she searched for some hidden answer. She'd admired those brilliant blue eyes many times for their beauty and their wisdom. It was comfort she sought now, but only sadness was present. _Her_ pirate, the witch had said. She'd heard it before from Regina, too. While such a label would've made her roll her eyes even a few weeks ago, she couldn't deny his feelings anymore. Moreover, if she was honest – and she was running out of excuses not to be – she knew those feelings were not entirely unrequited.

Turning back to Zelena Emma scoffed, "And that's what you want? You're so afraid of my power that you tried to keep me from coming back to Storybrooke, and when that didn't work you stooped to using a curse to take it from me?"

"It's just as much a curse for him as it is for you," she drawled before her features sharpened. "And I'm hardly afraid. But why should I be bothered with such nuisances as an egotistical princess when you're so easily dealt with?" Henry flinched as the dagger bit into his skin, a drop of ruby red blood marring his pale flesh. Zelena smirked as Emma gasped again. "Oops."

Emma faced Killian, angry, discouraged tears blurring her vision of his handsome face. His fingers flexed again before lifting to smooth her hair away from her cheek. He smiled softly, tragically down at her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice thick with remorse.

"Tick tock," Zelena hissed, her patience obviously coming to an end. She sneered as she muttered, "Love is so sickening."

A sudden tendril of hope blossomed in Emma's brain. _Love_. Of course! True love's kiss would break any curse. Her eyes swung to Killian's again but this time she allowed herself to fully consider what he meant to her. Love had always been a curious thing to Emma, often not recognized until she was about to lose it. It had been easier to hide behind her walls than to let someone in to potentially uncover all her faults until they decided she wasn't worth the effort. Such had been the pattern time and time again. Until Killian Jones. He loved her…he stayed. He found her. _He found my heart_, Emma thought a bit bittersweet. She tried to imagine her life without him in it and it hurt. For all the times he had stayed by her side, she had looked to make sure he was still there. She needed him. She wanted him. She…loved him.

Gently, Emma took Killian's face between her two palms, barely noting the scratch of his scruff against her tender skin. His eyes widened, distressed yet resolved. "Emma…are you sure?"

She offered him a soft smile and whispered, "Believe," before lifting onto her toes to press her lips against his.

They had shared one real kiss before this – she didn't count the one in New York City – and Emma had shamelessly replayed it often in her thoughts. The passion, the heat, had awoken desires for this man that had merely flirted above the surface until that moment. But there'd been no time to further investigate their potential, and Emma's heart had not been open to it anyways, not yet. Though she'd never forgotten.

This kiss rekindled every fleeting sensation that memory had evoked and magnified them exponentially. Killian's lips burned against hers, sending a shockwave through her body and deep within her well of magic. She felt it churn in her veins, seeking a way to escape, and for a moment a true bolt of fear stabbed through her chest. Had she been wrong about them? But even before the thought could fully form, her magic rose to shimmer all around them, bathing them in a soft white haze. She felt an answering call stemming from Killian, and the light amplified before bursting outward in an arc.

Distantly, the clanging sound of Rumpelstiltskin's dagger dropping to the floor mingled with Zelena's cry of surprise. "That's impossible!"

Breaking away from Killian, Emma dragged air raggedly into her lungs and reached for Henry. From her periphery, she noted Killian kicking the dagger from Zelena's clutches before placing his body between the witch and the two of them. She quickly shifted Henry behind her back before summoning magic between her hands. The resounding surge produced by true love's kiss felt wild and alive and Emma knew without a doubt it was a match for Zelena, no matter how powerful she may be. "Not impossible. Just not something you thought about," Emma replied dryly.

Zelena's mouth tightened and her eyes flashed dangerously. "You think you've won? That your precious _love_ is enough to defeat me?"

"I think you are afraid now," Emma answered coolly. The magic flared eagerly in her palms.

The Wicked Witch's eyes jumped around the room. She would never admit to her fear, Emma realized, but it was nearly as apparent now as her envy had always been. Loud voices sounded from the library entrance beneath them and Zelena shifted backwards.

"Emma! Emma we remember!" Called the voice of David.

Zelena snarled again. "I suppose I've worn out my welcome. But don't fret, there's plenty more of me yet to come." She waved her arm to summon a cloud of green smoke. Reacting, Emma released the ball of white magic, but the Wicked Witch of the West was gone before it connected.

A stunned sort of silence followed, punctuated only by the strained breathing of the three left standing in the clock tower. "Mom? Hook?" Henry spoke tentatively.

Emma spun around and searched her son's expression. A previously unknown awareness lit his face. "You remember, too, don't you."

Henry picked up Rumpelstiltskin's dagger with a sense of fascination and then smiled slowly as if he were testing his ability to do so. "Yeah…what happened?" He looked curiously between his mother and the pirate standing beside her. "So, you and Hook, erm…Killian?"

"You and Hook what?" David echoed as he ascended the final step.

Emma glanced at Killian a bit shyly. Her pirate. Her true love. As their eyes held, a newfound confidence blossomed deep within those blue depths she so adored. Her fingers entwined with his and she smiled. A real smile. "It's a long story," Emma answered a bit remotely, still a bit in shock at all that had occurred.

David's posture stiffened. As a veteran of true love, it was easy enough to piece together what had happened. "A long story, huh. Let me guess, it ended with a kiss?" His eyes narrowed toward Killian.

Killian's lips tugged into a pleased smirk. "Please Dave, the lass practically forced me."

Emma shoved him. _Her pirate alright_. Looking between the three men in her life, she realized she'd been surrounded by love much longer than she'd allowed herself to accept. So the Wicked Witch had escaped; she'd also revealed a tremendous weakness. Where Zelena clung so tightly to her envy and hatred, her enemies believed in the power of love. Even Emma Swan, the savior of Storybrooke and a once-upon-a-time-love-skeptic had to admit the odds were definitely tilted in their favor.

"So the curse is broken," Emma commented a bit needlessly.

"In more ways than one," Killian agreed. His intense gaze set a light blush creeping over her cheeks. "I knew you could do it, love."

"We did it," Emma corrected. She'd never doubt true love again.

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**Review? Thanks for reading ;)**


	4. The Fidelity Stone

**A/N:** _This fic was written with affection for my brotp, __**Yettoseeyoufail**__, in honor of her birthday. For the purposes of this mini diversion, I've disregarded the very end of 3x19, choosing instead to force Emma and Killian to deal with each other. (Snowing baby is not making an arrival yet and Henry went home with Regina.) It's my first time writing Third Person from Killian's POV. Certain parallels are intentional. Hope you enjoy! _

_**Warning: Potential Trigger – past abuse briefly mentioned**_

_**In search of a talisman to protect Snow White's unborn baby, Killian and Emma accidentally encounter a magical item imbued with a spell designed to force the recipients to prove their faithfulness to one another. Over the course of an evening, will they reveal their truths and accept their devotion to each other? **_

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**The Fidelity Stone**

"Just set it anywhere," Emma commented flatly, motioning toward Killian's satchel. Her words were clearly directed to him, though she was careful not to actually face his way. His lips twitched wryly as he watched her shrug out of her fetching vermillion waist coat and hang it in the armoire, her motions stiff with tension. _Stubborn lass. _

Glancing around the small rented room, he dropped the overloaded bag on a wing-backed chair in the corner near to her haphazardly strewn belongings. "Are we going to discuss this, or am I to be treated to the dulcet tones of your silence for the remainder of this venture?"

Her steely green eyes flashed as she turned to him, displaying her irritation quite clearly. "Look; I don't like this anymore than you do. But until we figure out how to reverse the spell, we're stuck with each other."

Killian sauntered closer to her. Oh, he knew he was playing with fire – taunting the savior – but when her hackles rose like a skittish feline, he was compelled to attempt stroking her temper until she either purred or bit him. As of yet, the latter had been the normal conclusion, but he was nothing if not persistent. A smirk played at his lips as her eyes widened. _Always an open book, his Swan_. "I don't know, love; is it really so bad?" He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Being _stuck_ with me?"

"Your ego needs its own zip code," she muttered. Killian's brow lifted in slight bafflement. Seeing it, Emma sighed, "Never mind." She smoothed her hands over her denim pants. "So, where do we start?"

Killian rocked back on his heels and tucked his thumb under his belt. "Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps if we were more comfortable?"

"Don't even think about it!" Emma snapped.

He scratched lightly behind his ear. "I meant it in the most literal terms, love." Gesturing toward the arrangement of chairs he continued, "A seat…some refreshment?" Seeing her posture relax a small measure he braved, "Though given the circumstances, would it not be wise to aim for comfort with one another as well?"

Killian internally braced himself for her reaction. She didn't like to be pushed – he was well aware – but he'd tried the patient route ever since finding her in that blasted menace of a city with little progress to show for it.

"If you'd kept your hand to yourself like Belle warned, we wouldn't even be in this situation," Emma seethed.

"Yes, I did hear you the first several times you reprimanded my behavior." Killian sighed, thinking back to the moment he'd set them on their latest course toward calamity. It seemed no matter how he tried to avoid placing her and her loved ones in danger; danger had a way of forcing his hand.

After their minor victory in thwarting the witch's attempt to harm Henry – breaking the memory curse as an added bonus – they'd set off for the Crocodile's shop in search of a veiling talisman for Snow White's unborn baby. The queen, in her regained clarity, claimed the charm would prevent anyone with harmful intentions from touching the bearer. Killian had silently mused that such a treasure would've been useful the moment the witch first appeared, but of course he didn't dare share his thoughts aloud. While his Swan seemed to begrudgingly accept his assertion that he had, in fact, received anonymous instructions to find her, he'd definitely fallen a few paces in her estimation. In the end, they'd miraculously secured the talisman, – now safely stowed around Snow White's neck – but true to form they'd not escaped unscathed.

"I swear you're as bad as a child, sometimes!" Emma continued, her voice laced with a combination of exhaustion and exasperation. "You of all people should be more wary when it comes to dealing with magical objects. But of course you were only thinking about yourself."

The arching of his brow was the only visible reaction he allowed himself, though her words cut him to the quick. "I've already apologized; it was hardly my intention to cause you any more difficulty," he spoke through clenched teeth. "Though to be fair, the pendant rightly matched the description given by the queen." In his haste to amend his latest wrongs, he'd searched through the various hoarded bric-a-brac more carelessly than the task warranted. His heart had lifted when he uncovered the oval stone set in a bed of silver filigree. Handing it to Emma, he'd hoped for some small sign that she'd not totally closed her heart to him, only to be stunned when a piercing blast of magic stabbed through them both.

_The Fidelity Stone_, Belle had called it. Intended as a boon to ease the first nights of an arranged marriage, the magic contained within the pendant served to 'tether the pair to one another's side until an act of true faithfulness warranted their separation.' It was bloody ridiculous, if you asked him. Judging by the rapid draining of the color in Emma's cheeks and the even swifter flush of anger, she'd agreed with his internal assessment. Nonetheless, the stone proved its power the moment Emma had attempted to storm away from him. She'd made it about fifteen paces before seeming to slam into an invisible wall; hence their current predicament.

Killian held Emma's heated gaze unflinchingly in an undeclared staring contest. "I know you're upset, love, but I am not your enemy," he spoke softly.

Emma held her rigid stance for several more beats before some of the fight drifted from her suddenly weary eyes. She sighed in concession. "Fine. One drink." Moving toward the chairs she asked, "Where's your flask?"

Killian watched her cautiously like one would a wild animal. "In my satchel," he responded. "Though, when I suggested refreshments, I had meant a proper meal, love."

"I'm not hungry," she retorted, already riffling through the leather bag.

Killian's lips twitched again, this time in amusement. "Then by all means, make yourself at home with my belongings."

Traces of her fiery spirit lit her eyes once more as she glanced at him, though she held her thoughts to herself. Not that he couldn't ascertain them plain as day, regardless. Retrieving the aged bottle, she sat stiffly in one of the generously-padded chairs which flanked a small fireplace. She pulled the stopper and took a large swig before lifting her brow in silent question toward him.

Killian removed his heavy coat and draped it over his bag before claiming the seat on the other side of the iron grate. Taking the flask which Emma held out to him, he tipped the bottle and relished the flow of smooth liquid as it passed his lips and blazed down his throat. Rum had been his only constant companion these past centuries; was it any wonder that he used it so often as a crutch? A one-handed pirate with a drinking problem, indeed.

"I'm still mad at you," Emma abruptly stated. His eyes flashed open and he started to protest the accidental spell once more, but she cut him off. "Not about the stone, though I'm not exactly happy about that. You lied to me. About the curse, about Henry…"

Killian took a slow, deep breath, willing his thoughts to settle in some semblance of an explanation. He knew how she valued honesty, how trust to her was akin to honor. He knew he was making a dangerous wager with her trust when he made the conscious decision to withhold what Zelena had threatened. But he wasn't sorry; given the same situation, he would've made the exact choice again. "Aye. I did. Though, it was meant with the best possible intentions." Killian focused his gaze on her, willing her to see the sincerity shining in his eyes. "She put me in an impossible position. I thought if only I could protect you and Henry whilst stalling her demand, we would defeat her before either ultimatum could come to pass."

"You should've told me. You're the one always going on about what a team we make, but then you shut me out. I…I trusted you," Emma declared.

A twinge of discomfort crept into Killian's chest at her words. _Trusted_. Past tense. He was unaccustomed to feeling affected by the convictions of others, yet from the moment Emma Swan entered his life, her wishes and needs had made a startling climb in his stagnant order of personal values. By the time they shared a kiss in Neverland, he knew he would do almost anything to make her life easier, no matter the sacrifice to himself. He'd waited patiently for her to accept the role he so desperately wanted to play for her, only to be rebuffed time and time again. But that was her way, and to love someone was to love all parts of them. Her obstinacy was as much ingrained in her psyche as his steadfastness was in his. Shades of the same trait, really.

"I never meant to hurt you, love," he admitted softly. "All I could think about was keeping you and Henry safe."

"That wasn't your decision to make," she started. Her eyes flicked over his face. "How could you ever think sending my son away without consulting me was in anyone's best interest?"

He swallowed thickly. The traces of rum suddenly tasted a bit sour. "Perhaps I made a mistake in that regard; having recently heard the witch's latest bout of threats, I knew I was running out of time. For that I am sorry. But Emma, I never claimed to be perfect."

She scoffed, her jaw tightening. "Understatement of the year."

Something in her tone, the sheer flippancy of her continued dismissal of his feelings and his efforts, ignited his ire. After everything he'd done to prove his sincerity, his loyalty to her and her alone, she continued to shield his actions from breaking past her impenetrable walls. Perhaps he had damaged her budding trust, but for how long was he supposed to continue beating his head against those walls?

His teeth grated together. The soft leather of the flask pouch warmed in his tightening fist. "I suppose we'd best get to solving this latest predicament so I can remove myself from your presence, as you find my own so distasteful."

Emma's eyes rolled skyward. Speaking under her breath, but loud enough for all to hear, she mumbled "And look who's being _really_ mature."

Killian's blood heated and he nearly bit his tongue to keep from responding, knowing he would regret whatever came out of his mouth at that moment. Instead, they sat there, three feet of space between them yet a host of feelings defining their separation. The blasted fidelity stone could not have chosen two better candidates for mending an injured partnership.

A loaded silence weighed down upon them. The antique clock on the mantle marked time with steady ticks, seemingly growing louder with each passing second. Try as he might, Killian couldn't think of what to say to steer this particular vessel into more pleasant waters. His Swan was a tempest unwilling to settle, at least for the moment.

She suddenly reached over and grabbed the flask from his hand, bringing it to her lips and taking another sizeable gulp. As she lowered her arm, her thumb traced over the faded emblem embossed on the leather sheath: a knight's helmet watching guard above a lion…his family crest. "You never talk about your past."

"I thought you said it didn't matter?" Killian asked, lifting one of his dark brows.

"It doesn't…not really," she exhaled in a rush. "But we obviously need to start somewhere."

Killian felt his mouth curve downwards in a frown. For a fleeting moment his battered heart hoped she'd asked because she truly cared to know. He really needed to work at leashing his expectations. "Where shall I start? I was born? I was abandoned? I learned to sail?" He shook his head, hearing the obvious emotion leeching into every one of his words. "Or when I became a pirate? That's really where the tale gets interesting."

Her unexpected touch on his arm startled him. Looking up, he was met with a pair of guarded, but definitely softening green eyes. She opened her mouth once, twice, before finally saying, "I wouldn't get so upset if I didn't care."

He let the meaning of her words percolate within his conscience. It wasn't complete forgiveness, nor was it a sweeping declaration, but it was a start. Nodding slightly, he took a deep breath and started. "I was born into an affluent family. My mother died as a result of complications with my birth and my father was gone before I reached the age of nine. I was never given the full details of why he left, just that he made a choice to leave me behind because it was too difficult to manage a child while trying to disappear. I like to imagine he didn't realize the consequences his decision foisted upon me, but of course he knew. In those times there was no such thing as social welfare. His fortune was seized by the crown and I made my new home with the other street rats."

He paused, his mind swimming with the murky details of some three hundred years past. Memories of violent stomach cramps born from intense hunger sent echoes of phantom pain along his nervous system. His nostrils still flared at the foul odor of refuse which decorated each alleyway he and the other lost children frequented. Some offenses never faded.

Emma's hand appeared in his field of vision, offering him comfort by means of alcohol. Shaking his head slightly, he declined her offer and picked up his tale. "My brother, Liam, by some grace of fate found me during one of his shore leaves. By then, I'd already developed a strong love of the sea. I'd imagine boarding one of the massive ships and escaping to far off lands. Not so different from other lads of the time, I'm sure." He glanced over at her, more interested than he cared to admit in her reaction to these truths he'd never shared with anyone.

She smiled faintly, just a hint of her lips tilting at the corners, but it was the encouragement he was hoping for. "Liam. I never knew his name," she commented.

Killian grinned, "Aye, that was his name, though he preferred Captain. Even from his own blood. He wore that ridiculous pointed hat as if it were a crown." His face fell as his mind got ahead of his tale.

"David told me a little of your history with Neverland. About Liam." She carefully assessed his face. "I hope you don't mind."

"No," he answered quickly. "I…I want you to know." The grief he'd long buried made a curious return to his heart. Was it the sharing of such memories with the woman he loved? Or some by-product of their enchantment? Every word he spoke seemed to unleash a part of him he didn't realize he'd imprisoned deep within the fortress of his mind. "I told Dave it was because of Liam's death that I chose a pirate's life. And while that was certainly a contributing factor, it wasn't the entire truth. There has always been a part of me searching for where I belong."

The sharp sound of a quick intake of air called his attention to Emma. She wore an expression burdened by a deep realization. "What is it, love?" Killian asked.

She looked at him as if she had forgotten he was sitting there. Setting the flask on the floor, her fingers twisted anxiously in her lap. A long moment passed in which she visibly seemed to come to some hard-won decision. When she spoke, her voice was more timid than he'd ever heard from her. "It's just…I guess I always felt that way, too. Growing up, I had no idea where my parents were. All the other kids had these horrific stories about how they landed in the system, as if that somehow gave them a right to be there. But my past was a blank canvas. I wasn't abused or neglected; I was just alone. Even among a group of kids who'd been given away like me, I didn't belong."

He let her confession add to the solemnity of his own revisit to the past. The quiet surrounded them once more, though the heaviness from before had been replaced by the fragility of baring one's soul. When the clock chimed the hour, Emma stood from the chair and stretched her back. "It's getting late, and we're meeting the others really early. We should get some sleep."

Standing beside her, Killian dared to address a rather obvious point. "I'll sleep on the floor, if you wish."

Emma eyed him with faint suspicion, though he tried to ignore it. He'd made an egregious error with how he'd handled her son, he would concede that point. If she felt it was necessary to measure the sincerity of his actions then so be it. At least she did consider them; that was more than he could've said a few hours ago. She nodded once before disappearing into the bathroom.

Sighing, more from mental exhaustion than any specific frustration, Killian arranged a makeshift bed on the rug before the fire. He removed his hook, vest, and boots and stretched out on the pallet. The soft pattering of Emma's footsteps preceded the dimming of the lights. Her mattress groaned slightly as she settled beneath the covers. "Goodnight, Swan," he called to her.

"Goodnight…Killian."

A swell of hope soothed over his heart. She'd called him by his name, and there was no one around for her to blame it on. Closing his eyes, he let his imagination overtake the less enjoyable memories from moments earlier, seeing Emma's golden hair shining in the brilliant sunshine of the open seas. Her boy, Henry, calling out commands from behind the massive wheel of the Jolly-

_The Jolly Roger_. How could he have forgotten? How could he have let his flights of fancy lead him to the most painful memory of all? _It was worth it…for her_, he continued to tell himself. It was the same mantra he'd repeated as he burned his beloved ship – the only home he'd ever known – into ash. Would she ever appreciate the sacrifices he'd made for her sake?

"Killian?" Her silky voice parted the stillness of the room.

"Aye?" He opened his eyes slowly.

"How did you find me?" She asked.

Killian's pulse sped. Was she some kind of mind reader? Had her magic granted her access to his innermost thoughts? He shifted where he lay, his hand crossing to cover his chest.

"Please…I need to know."

He waited, moistening his suddenly dry lips. "The same way we opened the portal in the Enchanted Forest when we first met," he confessed.

Emma sat up against the headboard. It was too dark for them to see one another, but he could feel her eyes on him nonetheless. "But we used up all the dust from the wardrobe."

He breathed in and out slowly, hesitating to answer her unspoken question; knowing that when he did, it would only expose more truths that he wasn't sure she was ready to accept. Did he really have a choice, though? She owned all of his truths, even if she chose to throw them back in his face. "Did I ever tell you that the Jolly was made of enchanted wood?"

"What?" Emma gasped. The light flooded the room abruptly. Killian closed his eyes to protect them from the sudden brightness, or at least that's the reason he gave himself.

"After I received that message, I knew I had to cross the realms. But there were no beans left, so I achieved the goal in the only means available."

Emma's voice was filled with shock and something he'd never heard from her before. "You sacrificed your ship…for me?"

He hoisted himself onto his elbow, finally meeting those devastating mossy green eyes which haunted his every waking thought. "Aye," he affirmed simply.

Emma shook her head, disbelief plain on her face. "But…why?"

Killian stood slowly and approached her, noting the way her eyes tracked his every step and grew almost too large for her face. He sat on the edge of her bed, needing to be near her when he rent his feelings wide open. "For the same reason Zelena cursed me, and the same reason I tried to take your son out of Storybrooke…because I love you, Emma. You must know that I do."

She reached for his hand hesitantly, tracing the back of his fingers as delicately as if he were made of glass. "I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier. For the way my parents treated you, too." She linked her fingers with his. "I was scared…scared that after everything I was wrong about you."

"I know," Killian replied resolutely. He offered her a tentative smile. "I know you, Swan. I understand you. You said the same of me, once."

A tiny smirk curved the corner of her mouth. "You and me, we're the same…" she recalled. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he'd made the choice to stand by her side rather than sail away on his own like he'd done for countless years. Her expression fell as she focused on his lips. "We'll figure this out. And when we do, who knows…" her voice trailed off, though it was filled with hopeful resolve. Or at least that's how he chose to interpret it.

Leaning back, Emma reached over and switched off the lamp. She tugged on his shoulder, signaling for him to lie down beside her. "Are you sure?" He asked, almost kicking himself for jeopardizing what was seemingly a very clear invitation to spend the night by her side.

She laughed softly. "You did just tell me you loved me. I suppose that earns you a place off of the floor. At least for tonight."

Killian shifted beneath the coverlet, holding his frame rigid so as not to take any liberties despite every muscle screaming to wrap her in his arms. Moments passed before he felt her soft hand settle against the fabric of his shirt, her fingertips grazing the exposed skin where the shirt gaped open. A tremor of desire racked his body at her slight touch, and he held his breath when seconds later her head nestled against the crook of his shoulder. Her soft exhalations tickled against his neck. It was several minutes before he let his own body relax into the mattress.

"When I was about nine, I was placed with the Franklins," Emma whispered in the darkness. "She stayed at home, and he was a mechanic. It was the first time I was the only child at a residence, as their real children had already moved out and started families of their own. Mrs. Franklin showed me _Annie_ one day," Emma paused in her retelling and quickly explained the basics of the film before continuing, "and I remember becoming obsessed with her character. I wanted to find my own Daddy Warbucks, someone who would fight to keep me for no other reason than they wanted me. I must've sung that damned song a thousand times that summer," her voice faded out, lost to the distant memory.

"What happened, love?" Killian asked softly after a while. He'd been afraid to speak until then, not wanting to give any cause for the walls to fortify again.

Her fingers toyed with his chains. "Mr. Franklin…he used to get in these moods. I could normally spot them a mile away, but one day he came home from work early and I was in the backyard, singing at the top of my lungs. He probably told me to stop, but I don't remember. It was the first time anyone hit me."

Killian's rage boiled dangerously under his skin. He clenched his fist in the sheet, twisting the fabric almost to the point of tearing.

"I didn't stay with them long. I'd like to think the social worker noticed the bruise, but no one ever really tells kids the truth. I was placed with seven more families between then and turning sixteen. None of them were all that memorable. And I just got tired of it all. I left to be on my own. That's when I met Neal. He was the first person who really saw me. Or, at least I thought he did.

"He did, love. In his own way…" Killian said assuredly, thinking back to the few conversations he'd had with Bae about the amazing woman lying beside him. "He loved you."

Emma was quiet. For a moment Killian wondered if he'd overstepped, just as he feared. But then she spoke again; "I gave everything to him and ended up feeling foolish. Like I was just a diversion for him. I understand, now…but I was so alone. No one had ever wanted to keep me, not even him. That does something to a person."

Giving in to the urge to comfort her in some way, Killian let his fingers tangle in her long blonde locks. "We're more alike than I even realized, Swan."

She was quiet again, before finally whispering "I have no idea why I just told you all that."

Hedging his bets, Killian replied, "Don't you?"

Emma's hand slipped from his chest, her arm wrapping around his waist. "Don't hurt me, Killian."

"I don't intend to, love," he affirmed. "At least, never intentionally."

He could've sworn that he felt her lips lifting in a smile against his neck. "I trust you."

Killian's heart swelled almost to the point of pain. Rationally, he knew this was no guarantee for smooth sailing. The witch was still at large, the curse still upon his lips, but his hope was restored. Letting his eyes drift shut, he welcomed the coming reveries which spoke of future happiness for him and his Swan.

As they crossed into the realm of sleep, neither were aware of the wave of magic sweeping over them, recognizing their renewed commitment to each other and breaking the spell cast by the Fidelity Stone.

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